


Chemical Fantasy

by Mortior



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, Consensual, Consensual Non-Consent, Drugged Sex, Established Relationship, Incest, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Stridercest - Freeform, Tranquilizers, alpha stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 03:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortior/pseuds/Mortior
Summary: Dirk wants to feel powerless, and asks his older brother to dominate him and take away his ability to fight back. Consensual drugging and rape roleplay ensues.





	Chemical Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for The Hatpile Stridercest discord server! I forgot to post it here until now. :Y

“You want me to drug you.”

It’s not a question – it’s a flat, incredulous statement, and Dave’s eyebrows are raised halfway to his hairline. Dirk rolls his eyes, arms already crossed against his chest, one leg folded over the other, his posture stiff where he’s on the futon sitting half-turned away from Dave. His famous movie director brother was just on his way out the door, already dressed in his expensive black fitted suit with its suggestive scarlet tie and tight ass-hugging pants, like he doesn’t intentionally spend every day teasing whoever’s within his line of sight. ‘It’s a brand,’ Dave once said, when Dirk brought it up. ‘Bullshit,’ Dirk wanted to say, but didn’t. He’s an even worse tease at home, but somehow the topic of their next sexual misadventure came up while Dave was halfway out the door (because planning is half the fun), and now he’s staring at Dirk like he’s never heard of a god damn kink before.

“I’m not asking you to roofie me,” Dirk sneers, but doesn’t quite bare his teeth. He’s defensive about his unique sexual preferences on a good day, but admitting to having a genuine rape fantasy, even if it’s limited exclusively to Dave, would be hard enough for any normal person, let alone someone like him. It’s a free pass for Dave to do whatever he wants, and of course he has to be skeptical about it. Dave is obviously judging him, and Dirk is starting to wish he hadn’t confessed to this, but then Dave shakes his head and sighs, long and loud.

They work out the details, right there in the living room. Dirk’s input is quick and deadpan, refusing to invest himself emotionally, like he isn’t negotiating an impending sexual encounter with his brother/lover, while Dave is irritatingly calm and serious, like he’s negotiating a contract.

“So, let me get this straight – you want me to drug you, but you don’t want to know how, or when, or with what, and then you want me to, quote, ‘have my way with you,’ end quote. You’re not giving me much to work with here.”

“That’s the whole point, you do whatever you want to do. Whatever makes you feel good. I don’t get to decide what that means.” Dirk shouldn’t have to explain this concept to Dave, supposedly the most promiscuous and well-bedded director in Hollywood. _It’s a brand, kid._

“Is that supposed to be part of the kink? You don’t get a say in what happens? That doesn’t sound-”

“Bro, can you just, fucking, trust me for once?” Dirk huffs, aware of how petulant he’s being, but unable to care. “This is the only way I know how to do this - to let go, okay? And I want to do it with you. I want you to…I want it to be…I just…I can’t trust anyone else with this. I want you to force me. I want to resist you and lose.”

Dave doesn’t like it, but he can suck it up and deal, because Dirk figures his Bro owes him. He’s been thinking about a scenario like this for…years, if he’s being honest, and Dave’s getting a pretty sweet deal out of it. ‘Drug your uptight little brother and use him like your own personal sex doll’ is the short version of what they’re negotiating, and Dave agrees to think about it.

The next day, after Dirk asks him again (with his head between Dave’s legs, frenching the smooth head of Dave’s dick like it’s his date to prom), Dave agrees to go through with it, and Dirk can hardly sleep that night.

From that moment on, he carefully samples his food and drink for a chemical aftertaste, and starts locking his bedroom door at night (like it would keep Dave out if he really wanted to get in), but they agreed to play this game, and Dirk doesn’t do anything by half measures. He’s more than up to the challenge, and his hypervigilance lasts about two weeks before the disappointment sets in and he figures Dave must’ve changed his mind.

Dirk’s pride keeps him from bringing it up again, and he chalks it up to another failed kink-sharing attempt with his ridiculously vanilla older brother.

Almost two months pass, before Dave comes home one night with Chinese takeout and a pair of sodas tucked in the precarious cradle of his elbow. He drops the hot plastic bag of food on the table where Dirk is stretched out, lazily half-watching some reality TV show about the Alaskan wilds while his laptop compiles his latest project - a necessary step to building the program, but one that renders his computer useless until it’s finished.

Dirk nudges the bag open and pulls out a white styrofoam box of something (he doesn’t care what Dave orders, everything tastes good enough), while Dave stops in the kitchen for napkins and silverware, then joins him on the couch. There’s some sort of pork-style chow mein in Dirk’s box, and Dave ends up with beef and broccoli, because the place never labels anything and Dave can’t remember what he ordered long enough to make it home.

Dirk accepts the orange soda and manages to finish it well before he runs out of food. The current show ends and turns into an island survival thing that Dave watches gleefully. Dirk almost forgets about his laptop and the compiling program, and almost does a double-take when he notices how much time has passed since Dave got home.

The futon is more comfortable than usual. Dirk woke up early to finish that program, and now that it’s more or less done, he’s finally able to relax for the first time in days. His body is throwing in the towel, and Dirk figures he’s earned an early bed time and at least twelve quality hours of sleep.

Dave doesn’t react when Dirk stands up and wobbles slightly, unexpectedly on his feet. Dirk grabs the arm of the futon, blinks for a moment, and shakes his head, taking in a few lungfuls of air to wake himself up. He walks towards the bathroom, glancing at Dave to make sure he’s still glued to the television. That was embarrassing enough without his snarky brother commenting on it. He must’ve pushed himself too hard today.

Dirk finds himself in the bathroom without a clear memory between getting up and arriving there, like he teleported from his spot on the futon, even though he knows for a fact that he walked the whole way. He grips the cold edges of the sink and meets his own eyes in the mirror, taking note of how wide his pupils are blown, despite the harsh white light of the bathroom.

The thought occurs to him suddenly that Dave might’ve actually gone through with what they agreed on almost two months ago. It would be just like him to take Dirk’s suggestion of waiting until he least expected it to the extreme.

There’s a noticeable dizzying bend to Dirk’s vision when he moves his eyes too fast, and walking from point A to B feels like he’s floating. If Dave didn’t drug him, then someone at the restaurant must’ve slipped something into his food, or he’s having a stroke at eighteen years old. Dirk decides on the obvious explanation and makes his way back to the living room, where Dave is still watching TV.

Dirk sits down in his spot on the futon, trying not to feel like his trip to the bathroom was a vivid daydream. There’s an empty container of Chinese food on the table, and he can’t remember putting it there. The laptop is finished compiling and the screen is dim, but he can’t figure out what he’s supposed to do with it next. Shut the lid? He reaches out and closes the computer, and sits back against the futon’s unusually comfortable cushions.

There’s some sort of fast-paced commercial on TV, all flashing lights and colors and people. It feels like he’s drunk, but without the giddy blow to his judgement, and there’s a strange weakness in his arms and legs, like his motor skills aren’t all there. Dirk rests his head against the back of the futon, and that, apparently, is what gets Dave’s attention.

“You okay?” Dave doesn’t seem genuinely worried. He shouldn’t be, if he’s the one who did this. Dirk wonders vaguely what Dave drugged him with and why he couldn’t taste it.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t intentionally mumble the words, but they come out half-slurred. Everything feels heavy and dull, and just shy of dizzy. He thinks maybe the TV show is back on, but it’s hard to tell. This might be a promo for another show on the same channel.

“You sure?”

Dirk detects a slight…something in Dave’s tone, but he’s in no condition to analyze it. He thinks about nodding in response, but goes with a low affirmative hum instead.

Dirk closes his eyes and feels like he’s slowly falling backwards, like he could pass out if he really put his mind to it, but there’s something on his shoulder – Dave’s touch, paternal and concerned, but his fingers are curled a little too tight. Dirk opens his eyes, bringing the living room back into existence, and Dave is leaning closer, his formidable weight bearing down on Dirk’s shoulder.

“You look kinda out of it, kid. Maybe you should lie down.”

The words are simple enough, but there’s something nudging against Dirk’s hip, followed by the warm, smooth texture of skin where he didn’t expect it - sliding into his underwear and between his legs.

The unaffected (but quickly diminishing) part of Dirk’s brain manages to react, and he pulls away from Dave and the hand groping his dick. He stumbles away, rocking on his feet and unable to assume a proper defensive stance. Dirk can hear himself breathing hard as Dave straightens up with a casual expression, like he isn’t surprised.

That’s right. Dirk arranged all of this weeks ago and now it’s finally time to play, but he isn’t sure what he’s working with. He runs through a quick mental checklist of his own symptoms and decides it’s some kind of tranquilizer, and that it probably hasn’t kicked in 100% yet. Dave is standing up, and Dirk places the futon between them, aware of how much effort it takes just to balance on his feet without wobbling. The TV flashes another commercial, but the volume is almost too low to hear.

“What the fuck did you do?” Dirk snarls, hoping Dave will take the hint and play along.

“Figured it out, huh? That was quick.” Dave smirks, his voice low. Dirk takes a few steps back, catching himself on the edge of a chair as its legs squeal across the floor, one wrong step from an embarrassing fall. Dave is casually stalking him around the side of the futon, and Dirk is struggling to keep his eyes focused on his brother’s face. “Just a little something to take the edge off, little bro.”

Dirk feels like a cornered animal. Their apartment isn’t exactly spacious, he’s running out of room, and his body is getting heavier by the minute. There’s only so much space he can put between himself and Dave, and he can’t keep this up much longer.

Dave smirks in his dark aviators and black slacks, his silk shirt unbuttoned at the top. Everything about him at face value is sleazy and borderline corporate, and Dirk both loves and hates the way it turns him on, because Dave is the perfect casual dominant (it’s only a hobby, but he takes the role seriously). Dirk doesn’t need to pretend that he’s out of his element – that was the whole point of asking Dave to drug him, and he can only imagine what’s to come.

Dave hasn’t stopped moving, slowly closing the distance between them, as Dirk misjudges his next step backwards and stumbles over his own feet. Dave suddenly picks up speed, and Dirk turns to escape, making another half-trip around the futon before he stumbles in earnest, his knees hitting the floor. Dirk’s body is missing those sharp, finely-tuned reflexes that he prides himself on. He’s reduced to an uncoordinated mess, unable to get away or protect himself. Dirk turns to face his brother and tries to put some distance between them, using his elbows to push himself up and backwards across the carpet.

“Told you to be careful.” Dave clicks his tongue, then kneels and grabs Dirk’s ankle, easily avoiding the follow-up kick to dislodge him. The first real stab of fear hits, sharp and sweet, and Dirk twists around to pull himself to freedom across the floor, his half-hard dick trapped in his pants. He doesn’t need to fake the panicked cry when Dave yanks him back, rolling over just in time to catch one of Dave’s wrists as his brother tries to pin him down.

The next part is a blur. Dirk remembers his training, but his body won’t respond the way it’s supposed to. He’s left grappling ineffectively with Dave, feeling more and more like a helpless victim as his older brother straddles his thighs and seizes his wrists, effortlessly blocking Dirk’s pathetic attempts at self-defense. Dirk tries to throw him off, but can barely keep his eyes focused. He’s on his back and the room is spinning and now his arms are above his head and Dave is breathing a little harder, but that satisfied grin is victorious and hungry.

“You finished?” Dave practically licks his lips. His grip on Dirk’s wrists might as well be steel shackles. “Should’a put two of those pills in your drink.” Dave looks thoughtful for a moment, then releases Dirk’s wrists and grabs a handful of his little brother's blond hair, keeping him still as Dave reaches for his necktie with his other hand, deftly undoing the knot and pulling the strip of fabric free.

The window of opportunity for freedom is lost as Dave twists the fabric around Dirk’s wrists in practiced loops, binding the other end to the leg of the futon and its heavy steel frame. Dave reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small plastic bottle, uncapping and tipping it against the palm of his hand. He tucks the bottle away and leans over Dirk, his hand in a loose fist. “Open your mouth.”

Dirk narrows his eyes, still cognizant enough to recognize the loaded request for what it is. Dave lifts an eyebrow, then releases Dirk’s hair to unceremoniously push two fingers past his lips. Dirk doesn’t need to fight the urge to choke, his reactions delayed and his whole body unnaturally yielding to whatever Dave wants.

Dave anchors his fingers between Dirk’s teeth, holding his mouth open. Dirk bites down, earning a displeased frown and a soft grunt of pain, but the fingers don’t move. Dave’s other hand approaches with a small white pill between his fingers. The taste is slightly bitter against Dirk's tongue, and it begins to dissolve almost immediately.

Dirk’s eyes widen, and he tries in earnest to buck Dave off, but manages only a few weak twists under his brother’s weight. Dave withdraws his hand, then quickly covers Dirk’s mouth while pinching his nose shut.

Dirk pauses in horror, feeling the pill dissolve completely against his tongue, and Dave’s expression doesn’t change as Dirk starts to thrash against the binds around his wrists and the weight on his legs. He was already half-dizzy, and now the lack of oxygen multiplies it, until his lungs are burning and the room is shimmering with sparkling black pinpoints of light. Dave leans down, his breath hot in Dirk’s ear.

“Swallow and I’ll let you breathe, kid. Come on.” Dave firmly strokes Dirk’s throat with his other hand, encouraging him to do as he’s told.

Dirk whines, high-pitched and choked, unable to do more than twitch and strain uselessly at his bindings, wet tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as the seconds pass and Dave watches with a predatory stare. “That’s it,” Dave whispers soothingly, as Dirk’s throat jumps, his desperation for air winning over rational thought and self-preservation. He’ll do anything for air, and Dirk frantically swallows the pill’s bitter residue, silently begging Dave to have mercy and let him breathe.

Once he’s satisfied, Dave withdraws his hand and Dirk sucks air into his lungs, before coughing on the aftertaste. His shirt is pushed up a moment later, Dave’s fingers trailing up his chest and down his sides, then slipping into his waistline and pulling his pants down. Dirk yanks at the tie binding his wrists, gasping at the reality of being stripped and groped, unable to twist away from Dave’s hands as they indulgently cup and squeeze Dirk’s erection.

Dirk’s pants and boxers are soon pulled off in one rough motion, leaving him naked from the waist down and his fully erect dick exposed. Dave grins and unzips his own pants, and Dirk takes the opportunity to kick at him in retaliation. His foot connects with Dave’s chest, but there isn’t any force in it, and he only manages a weak push until Dave bats his leg away.

“You’re making this real fuckin’ easy,” Dave purrs, freeing his substantially thick cock from his underwear and letting it drag hot and hard against Dirk’s bare stomach. Dave leans over his little brother, fisting one hand into his soft blond hair while using the other to push Dirk’s shirt all the way up to his neck.

Dave’s mouth latches onto the side of Dirk’s throat, teeth scraping and tongue following to soothe the sting. He bites and sucks his way down to Dirk’s chest, stopping to focus on one nipple until it hardens at the attention, his tongue rolling the nub of flesh in gentle circles, until Dirk is panting and squirming beneath him.

“S-stop it…don’t, please…” Dirk whimpers, attempting to twist out of Dave’s grip as one leg is lifted up and held against Dave’s chest, pulling his legs apart into a sideways half-split. Dave pauses for a moment and lifts an eyebrow, but it’s not their safe word, and Dirk doesn’t want any of this to stop.

Dirk can feel his thoughts slipping even further – first it was just his body and the uncoordinated weakness in his limbs. Now he’s losing track of time as the second dose slowly kicks in. Dave reaches away for something, and Dirk hears the distant click of a plastic cap. His skin feels numb, like every touch is spread out over his entire body, until there’s something between his legs, and it’s four fingers and a thumb, grasping and squeezing and rubbing, and the feeling spreads thick and warm up his spine.

“Thaaat’s it, just relax.” Dave’s words are dark and sweet, as he pulls Dirk’s cock through his lube-slick fingers and works his thumb in circles around the sensitive head. Dirk’s thighs shake as he reflexively tries to close his legs – impossible with Dave’s body in the way. There’s no way to protect himself, not with his wrists bound and his head spinning.

Dirk’s sharp mind is crippled by the pleasant fog of intoxication, and he’s starting to feel, finally, like he’s one of the soft cloth puppets he keeps on his shelf. Sometimes he’ll take one of them and lay it down on its back, those false arms and legs sprawled out, limp and pliable. He’ll pull his pants down and straddle the puppet and grind against it until he cums, and deep down, he’s always been a little bit jealous.

Now Dave is pushing their hips together, and Dirk almost laughs at the image of being scissored, until the sensation hits of being stretched wide open and penetrated. The fog in Dirk’s head is getting thicker, and all he can do is gasp as Dave sets a hard, demanding pace.

Dave takes his own pleasure, trapping Dirk’s leg against his chest and holding him open while Dave’s hips piston back and forth, not bothering to start slow or set a reasonable pace. In this moment, Dirk is a cock sleeve for his brother, helpless and pliable, but warm and tight, his body working on Dave’s cock without even trying, and his rational mind an unnecessary factor in Dave’s pleasure.

Dirk feels the rhythmic shockwave of each thrust from his spine up to his brain, and it’s hypnotizing. The sensation of being stretched and filled is dull, but it’s everywhere, his own pleasure a vague afterthought as his neglected sex bounces with Dave’s thrusts.

There’s a thick blanket over Dirk’s senses as Dave leans forward, bending Dirk’s leg as far as it will comfortably go, and the angle of his thrusts change, until Dirk is being fucked into the floor. Dave’s hips pound harder and deeper, until the rhythm breaks and Dave grunts once, twice, slamming them together and trapping Dirk beneath him as Dave’s cock twitches and pumps him full of his brother’s seed. Dirk’s eyes roll back at the feeling, and the knowledge of what Dave has done to him.

Dirk can barely hold his head up anymore. The second pill must have finally kicked in. Everything is warm and fuzzy and perfect, mindless bliss.

Dave’s next words are muffled, washed out by the haze in Dirk’s brain. His leg is placed into a more comfortable position, and the weight on his body lifts, leaving Dirk spread out against the floor, his hands still restrained above his head. There’s a flash of movement, and the pull on his wrists is suddenly released. It doesn’t occur to Dirk to move his arms, and they linger above his head as his mind drifts, only barely registering the sensation of Dave looping one arm under each of his thighs, spreading him open and settling between his legs.

Dirk stares at the ceiling, feeling Dave’s presence between his thighs and belatedly hearing the wet sounds of licking and sucking. He tries to move his legs without any real goal in mind, his feet waving a little in the air above Dave’s back. Dirk’s hands are free, but his nerves won’t connect to his muscles anymore, and he might as well still be tied up. He’s breathing harder now, but he isn’t sure why. The spot between his legs is unbearably wet and hot. All he can do is fill his lungs and groan low in his throat, half in confusion, but also from pleasure. It’s rising over his head like water and it’s enough to make him choke on air, unable to get away or move closer. Only his lungs still seem to work, and Dirk can’t control himself anymore. It sounds like Dave left one of his porn videos on, but it’s Dirk’s own loud voice moaning and keening in his ears, his body writhing stupidly in Dave’s grasp. Dirk’s cock might as well be an extravagant four-course meal from the way Dave’s mouth is consuming him, hungry and demanding, with little apparent regard to the body attached.

When Dirk’s orgasm hits, his body is too weak to respond properly, and instead of the usual coordinated tighten-and-release of muscles, his whole body starts to shake, his thighs practically vibrating in Dave’s arms as that first jet of cum leaks into Dave’s mouth. Dave immediately latches on and sucks hard, milking the trickle of fluid until Dirk shouts, his cock trapped and twitching in the wet heat, mercilessly drained until he’s dry. Dave doesn’t stop until Dirk is crying out in white-hot pleasure, his throat raw and his head spinning, every nerve in his body on fire with an unbearable combination of overstimulation and ecstasy.

  


Awareness returns slowly, along with his cognition and motor skills, and Dirk finds himself in Dave’s bed, tucked beneath the covers and pressed up against a warm body, safe in his brother’s arms.

“Hey, welcome back.” Dave’s words are half-slurred with sleep, and he presses a kiss to Dirk’s forehead.

“Shit. Did I pass out?” Dirk asks, taking note of the sore throat and the lingering heavy feeling in his limbs.

“Probably,” Dave snorts, pulling him closer. “I cleaned you up and took you to bed, so don’t worry about it. Great suggestion by the way, we’ve gotta do that again sometime. You’re just…god damn, you’re beautiful like that. Next time I’ll film it.”

Dirk hums, already drifting back into a deep, satisfied sleep, and thinking to himself ‘that sounds just about perfect.”


End file.
